(Here is Ethne with her daddy.)
DUCKS WERE MADE TO FLY
As Craig I finished our walk we saw a young duck on the sidewalk in front of us. The small bird was waddling furiously—flapping its wings in an attempt to get off the ground. Instead of rising, the small creature stumbled forward. The momentum failed to lift him, and instead propelled him forward, skidding across the uneven surface of cement. It was painful to witness and couldn’t have been much fun to experience. Once the young bird came to a stop it waddled awkwardly off the sidewalk into the parking lot, where it found shelter behind the tire of a nearby parked car.
I’m still worried about that poor little thing because ducks don’t belong under cars. I know about ducks. They fly. They’re made to fly and that little guy will succeed, he will fly one day, he just needs to try again. Oh, I hope he doesn’t give up!
Have you ever felt like that little duck, skidding along the sidewalk when you really wanted to soar? Have you dreamed of lifting off and instead failed? I often feel this way about writing. Wanting to communicate is a deep passion but so often I’m insecure and what I try to do doesn’t quite measure up. I know that in Christ I am equipped for everything—any thing—all things, but sometimes I feel like hiding in a safe place where I won’t get hurt. The running is hard work and trying to get off the ground can be humiliating and painful. I trip up, stumble, and fall flat on my face. Still, the wind keeps beckoning me upward and I long to spread my wings and go on to new heights to places where the view is fresh and spectacular and I am flying freely.
“Oh, little duckling, if you can hear me thinking of you, listen. You can do it, I know you can. You may feel like you will never fly, but you will. Just don’t give up. Try again. Come on little friend, I know you can do it. You were made for this, don’t settle for hiding next to a tire when you were created for the heavens.”